Taken

‘What? I’m telling it like it is, that’s all.’ She sniffed again and let her eyes roam the room. Her gaze finally settled on me. ‘Who’s she anyway?’ she asked in a tone that was suddenly perfectly reasonable and serene. She jerked her head in my direction.

‘This is Rosie Lewis, Megan’s foster carer.’

‘Oh right,’ she said, looking at me from the corner of her eye now she knew who I was. ‘Beautiful, ain’t she?’ she asked and there was a note of aggression in her tone, as if daring me to disagree. I was used to that and knew better than to expect instant trust when caring for someone else’s baby. It was something that grew slowly; each time a parent saw their little one clean and nicely dressed for contact, every time they found fresh nappies and wipes in the bag sent with them, or perhaps a photo addressed to Mummy or Daddy tucked away somewhere for them to find. Trust usually came in time.

I nodded, smiling. ‘Absolutely, yes, she’s gorgeous.’

Her jawline softened and she turned her face towards me again, leaning closer. ‘Ain’t nothing wrong with her, ’cept for that gap in her lip and loads of babies have that. I keep telling them she’s all right but they don’t wanna listen. All babies puke, it ain’t just Megan. She’s got it a bit worse, probably ’cos of the butter.’

I frowned. Opposite me, Peggy gave a sigh of exasperation.

‘What’s that face about? I ate a load of butter when I was pregnant. It was like one of them cravings or something. That’s what did it.’

‘Is that what they’re calling it these days?’ Peggy mumbled.

Christina cut across the social worker with a contemptuous look, turning her attention back to me. She looked worn out, which wasn’t surprising considering she’d recently given birth, but there was sharpness in her face too, in character rather than features. She looked knowing somehow, as if she’d gathered more experience through the years than most other twenty-somethings.

Her brown eyes were red-rimmed and watery, shadowed with heavy greyish pouches, and her irises were bloodshot and dull, as if she hadn’t slept in days. In some ways her appearance was a surprise; apart from looking extraordinarily tired and laid low with an apparent heavy cold, she was actually quite attractive, her dark blonde hair fluffy around her face and no trace of the wizened, emaciated look you expect of an addict. Without looking at Peggy she jabbed a thumb fiercely over her shoulder. ‘This is the sort of shit I get every time I come here. Nazis, the lot of them. They’re all the same. I don’t get told nuffink about my own baby. All they do is pick holes all the time.’

‘Well, it would help if you’d turn up on time,’ Peggy pointed out. ‘If you’d arrived at ten when the meeting began you would have heard all about how Megan is doing. We’ve discussed her care plan, daily routines, contact arrangements,’ she said, tapping each one off on her fingers with the forefinger of her other hand. ‘I can recap now, if you’d like? You have contact this afternoon as a matter of fact. You’ll be hosting, Rosie. I presume that’s OK?’

My eyes widened. Peggy had summarised contact times about twenty minutes earlier, but said nothing about me hosting the event. She had also emailed a copy of the contact schedule through to me a few days earlier, but no venue had been stated. ‘Uh, I –’ I floundered. Since the demand for supervised contact at family centres was high, social workers were often keen for foster carers to cover sessions in their own home, provided there was no threat to their personal safety. Issues surrounding contact were usually discussed at the beginning of a placement, when plans for the child’s care were set out by the social worker. Peggy hadn’t said a word about it, so I had naturally assumed the contact would go ahead without any involvement from me. It was typical of her to spring the idea on me.

‘We’re at full capacity our end,’ Peggy said firmly. ‘We’d appreciate it, Rosie.’

‘Of course,’ I said, trying not to grimace.

Christina’s mobile wobbled and pinged. She swiped at it and then stared down at the screen, her expression going blank. Peggy cleared her throat noisily and pushed a sheet of A4 paper across the table. Christina snatched at it, the scrunching noise as she screwed it up in her palm clearing the glaze from her eyes. She stared at it for a full two minutes and then looked up at Peggy, her expression agog. ‘Ten?!’ she cried, waving the paper around, although she seemed to be responding to Peggy’s earlier comment about the start time of the LAC review. ‘I was told eleven, not ten. Who can get anywhere by ten o’clock? What am I, a fucking owl?’

‘The rest of us managed to get here punctually,’ Peggy said wearily, as if she’d said the same thing time after time. ‘And I haven’t the faintest idea where you got 11 o’clock from. I sent a letter with the time clearly stated to the manager at your refuge three days ago, along with a voucher to claim back any transport costs. A copy was sent to your solicitor and I also sent you a text-message confirmation, an email and I called your mobile this morning and left a voice message.’ Peggy clasped her hands together and rested them on the thick file in front of her. She leaned forward, staring hard at the young woman. ‘What else would you have me do, Christina? Arrange for a butler to wake you? Tea, croissants and the morning paper perhaps?’

I sank back, cringing inwardly, though I couldn’t help feeling a flash of admiration for Peggy at the same time. It was refreshing to hear her challenging Christina’s attempts to shirk responsibility, though I feared the young woman might explode in response. She did colour slightly, but then all she did was give a slow roll of her eyes. ‘Yeah, well, people like you don’t have to get buses everywhere, do you? You don’t have a clue what it’s like in the real world. The buses don’t run that regular where I am.’

‘Twaddle,’ Peggy scoffed. Christina stared at her, wide-eyed and adamant, but she didn’t say anything in defence. ‘It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you were only released from police custody this morning, I suppose?’

Christina sniffed briskly, her eyes flicking over to me and then quickly away again. ‘Yeah, well, might have been that an’ all.’ She rolled her shoulders, quickly recovering her dignity. ‘I wanted something to wear to the meeting today, didn’t I? I need to make a good impression so you give me my baby back. What was I supposed to do? Turn up naked?’ She looked back at me, garnering support. I tried to keep my expression non-committal.

Peggy adjusted her glasses and consulted the thick wad of papers in front of her. ‘Let’s see. Ah yes, here we are. I’m told you stole five pairs of trainers and 19 liquid eyeliners.’ She turned back to Christina and fixed her gaze keenly. ‘Who exactly were you trying to impress?’

Christina’s mouth opened and quickly closed. She examined her nails, which were short and jagged, and then turned back to me. ‘Fucking police state, that’s what this country is. I might as well pack up and go and live in Russia. Even they don’t dish out this sort of crap. In fact I’d go today if it weren’t so fucking cold over there. More cameras than rats where I live, there are.’

‘Hmmm, evidently,’ Peggy snorted. ‘A dearth of buses but no shortage of cameras.’

Christina’s jaw fell slack. ‘What you on about now?’ She looked across at me again. ‘I only get about half of what comes out of ’er mouth.’

Peggy scratched her short grey hair with sudden vigour. ‘All I was trying ’a do was make myself presentable,’ Christina continued. ‘Make a bit of an effort, you get me? What’s wrong with –’

‘What you need to do is get yourself clean,’ Peggy cut in matter-of-factly, whipping her glasses off and waving them in the air to punctuate her point. ‘There’s no benefit in prancing around in fancy trainers when you’re rotting away from the inside out, is there?’ Her tone was flat with no room for negotiation and, aside from muttering something crude under her breath, Christina didn’t bother trying.

My head was spinning. Christina was antagonistic and outrageous and she seemed to have a completely distorted idea of how the world worked but, in spite of a lingering resentment towards her for the harm she had caused Megan, I actually found myself liking her. I wasn’t sure if it was her Geordie accent, which seemed to make the most fearsome people sound friendly, or her complete lack of any artifice, but there was something about her that was genuinely disarming. I shook my head and blinked a couple of times, tuning back into the conversation. ‘– and we want to secure Megan’s future while she’s young enough not to know too much about it,’ Peggy was saying. ‘We know from studies that the sooner babies are settled, the easier –’

‘But I love her,’ Christina burst out, her lips puckering. Her legs were jiggling up and down so violently that one of her kneecaps hit the table. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she growled, wincing. ‘That’s what you lot don’t understand. I love her to bits.’ The muscles beneath one of her eyes began to twitch. I could tell she was close to tears. ‘God, don’t you get it? I just wanna hold her without ten thousand people standing around, judging me. It really fucking hurts, all this shit.’

Peggy’s expression softened. She sighed, rubbed the inner corners of her eyes with thumb and forefinger then put her glasses back on. ‘I don’t doubt it, Christina. But love alone can’t keep her safe. Megan needs warmth and security and someone calm to take care of her. Someone who’s able to put her needs first. You live a rackety life, love, not right for a baby, especially one with additional needs. You know that, deep down, don’t you?’

Christina started to cry. It wasn’t a howling display designed to garner sympathy but rather a quiet, reluctant release of emotion. Tears trickled down her cheeks and I bowed my head, a lump rising in my throat. Peggy handed her a tissue and she blew her nose loudly. I glanced out of the small window at the end of the room and stared out over the local authority car park, the sound of Christina’s quiet sobs moving me more than I would ever have expected or wanted them to. She had harmed a helpless baby and I had strong feelings about that, but viewed dispassionately, there was no malicious intent – it had happened as a by-product of hurting herself. It was such a sorry state of affairs that I couldn’t help but feel sad for everyone involved.

‘Come on now, don’t upset yourself. Let’s talk about these referrals you keep ignoring, shall we?’ Peggy said, kindness creeping into her tone. ‘You’re a young girl. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and you’re surrounded by people who want to help, love. Let’s get you booked in again and –’

‘Oh God,’ Christina screeched bitterly. She stood and grabbed her carrier bag. One of the plastic handles caught on the back of the chair and she gave a cry of frustration. There was a waft of tobacco as she hauled it free and threw herself at the door. ‘I can’t hack no more of this shit!’ she shouted, in the corridor before Peggy even had a chance to protest. The door banged behind her. I stared at Peggy in surprise.

‘Bloody hell,’ the social worker said, gathering her papers into a pile and banging one end into a block on the table. ‘I could shake her, honestly I could.’

‘She won’t go for help?’

She sighed loudly, air wheezing in her throat. ‘Oh, she goes all right, picks up her methadone and then tops it up with God knows what else when she gets out. She’s a character, I’ll grant you that. I actually quite like the girl; that’s why it’s so damn frustrating.’ She raised her eyebrows, heaved another sigh and then set her papers down gently, patting the top. ‘Anyway, on the bright side, Megan’s doing a little better you say?’

I nodded. ‘She seems to be a bit more comfortable. The Gaviscon’s helping, I think, although she still throws up after every feed.’ I gave her a rueful smile. ‘She has a knack of catching me right here,’ I said, patting my chest, ‘no matter which position I hold her in.’ Peggy huffed a soft laugh. ‘She’s sleeping a little easier as well. She really is a gorgeous baby.’

The social worker levelled her gaze. ‘Hmmm, yes, she is. And I’m supposed to constantly undermine your relationship with her so that you don’t get too attached. It’s what we’re told to do for our foster carers when they’re looking after babies.’ She bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘Only, if Megan were my own child I’d want you to love her utterly and completely, no holds barred, because the way we’re loved as babies defines how much love we’ll have in our hearts when we’re adults.’

I smiled at her. ‘I’ll keep her close, don’t worry about that.’

‘Yes,’ she said, looking directly at me. ‘I thought as much. But you’ll suffer the consequences when she leaves, that’s all I will say. And believe me, it’s going to hurt you a lot more than it’ll hurt anyone else.’

I gave a soft shrug. ‘That’s as it should be.’ I knew that if Emily or Jamie had been taken into care, I would have wanted whoever was looking after them to be smitten, however painful the eventual parting.

Peggy gave me a satisfied nod. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Right, so, contact stands at four times a week for now, as you’d have seen on the schedule I emailed. When we next go to court I’ll try and get it reduced. Let me know how it goes this afternoon. If it’s too difficult at home we’ll try to work something out, but Christina’s mild enough. Her bark’s worse than her bite.’

‘So today’s contact is going ahead then?’

Peggy’s jaw dropped again so that she gained a severe look. She peered at me over the top of her glasses. ‘As far as I know,’ she said abruptly. ‘Why would you think otherwise?’

‘I thought maybe, with Christina’s cold and everything, she didn’t look well enough to be around a baby and if she’s infectious –’

‘That’s no cold, Rosie,’ Peggy scoffed. ‘She’s been at the snuff, that’s all that is. And she’s got a touch of sinner’s eye, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘Sinner’s eye?’

Peggy nodded grimly. ‘It’s one of the places hardened addicts use to inject – the soft tissue around the eye. Either Christina’s worked her way through all the veins she can find and it’s the only place left, or she’s going for the big guns now she’s no longer pregnant.’

I blanched; my stomach contracting.

‘High impact,’ Peggy explained as she pushed her chair back and rose. She winced, her lips clenched together as if in pain. ‘Hits the brain faster,’ she added a little breathlessly, a few beads of sweat appearing on her brow. ‘Gives them the head rush they’re looking for.’

I grimaced again and Peggy shook her head, her expression relaxing. ‘My goodness, Rosie, you’ve led a sheltered life,’ she said, eyes twinkling with amusement. ‘You should do my job for a few months. That’d cure you.’ She turned stiffly and held the door open for me. ‘By the way, I’ve got to go into hospital tomorrow so you’ll need to contact the fostering team manager if there are any problems while I’m away. I’ll be back in the office next week, all being well.’

‘Oh, nothing serious, I hope?’